Waiting for Her
by elixia13
Summary: Blair waits for Alex. Or for his fate. Same difference? Slight reference to J/B Sentinel Too post ep


Waiting for Her

Rating: Pg-13 (language)  
Category: Drama, Post-ep (Sentinel Too)  
Pairing: J/B (sort of)

Summary: Blair waits for Alex. Or for his fate. Same difference? Disclaimer: Blair, Jim, etc and the events of Sentinel Too belong to Pet Fly and Paramount. No harm intended.

~~~~~~~~~

Jim's not the only one having visions, this time. Or, I should say, Jim and Alex aren't the only ones having visions. I don't know if they see...me, if either of them has seen the wolf. Jim, man, Jim isn't talking, and at this point I unfortunately know Alex hasn't been straight with me, beyond what she had to tell me to get my help.

I'd been feeling this enormous sense of foreboding, of something wrong, for days, but I couldn't pin it down. Free-floating anxiety, I told myself. It's just me. Then when Jim got shot--just winged, thank God--and I saw him lying all white and pained in the hospital bed, I thought okay, this is what I was so worried about. Jim'll be fine, just a little sling, paranoia's just up a notch too high this time.

He really was acting like an ass after he got sent home by the doctor, but I tried to give him space. I spent as much time as I could at work or just out, what the hell else was I supposed to do? Maybe I should have been there. Maybe that was my mistake. But I was trying to do the right thing, you know?

And what I got for it was a god damned gun in my face, thanks much. And I tried to tell him about Alex; I swear I did not set out to deceive him or to lie. I wanted to tell him, and he blew me off, so I changed my mind. How was I to know what that would cause? I'm supposed to be the shaman and the guide, and I think I do a pretty decent job of it most of the time, especially considering it's off the top of my head. I just don't know.

I admit I was excited by Alex, and not in a sexual way, thanks Jim. When she kissed me, it was the wrong Sentinel, absolutely the wrong Sentinel. I was actually thinking, at that point, hey, Jim's going back to work today, maybe he'll be in a better mood. I thought we could knock back a couple of beers and chill on the couch. Jim-time is the best.

But I came home to the boxes, ah God, and it was like some gross distortion of reality, and I thought *this* is what I was nervous about. After two and half, what? three years in the loft he was telling me to leave. Not asking me to leave. Not helping me find a place to move into in a few weeks or a month. No "Thanks for the good times, Sandburg." And that is what I got for trusting him and letting him help me. That is what I got for no lease and informal rent. That is what I got for trying like hell to follow his rules and play my music low and...fuck me.

He left, and I couldn't handle it, really. I grabbed my bathroom stuff, some clothes, a couple of books and that was really all I could fit in my car. I dragged the rest of it down to the basement and hoped Jim didn't burn it before I could pick it up. I didn't think he would do something like that, but then all expectations were right out the window.

And I had about fifty bucks at my disposal, so the motel I stayed in was like beyond creepy. I knew I needed to find something else quick, but I couldn't seem to motivate myself to do it. I still felt that impending doom coming down on me, and it was getting worse instead of better. I was trying not to think of what else could go wrong.

I ran out to work with Alex the next morning, and it was poignant in a really terrible way because I couldn't stop thinking of working with Jim on his senses for the first time. I couldn't help realizing that, while I could probably help Alex on the level of basic technique, I didn't feel the instinctive connection I did with Jim, right from the start. I was *his* Guide. I *am* his Guide, damnit. Whatever happens.

Megan really rose to the occasion; I have to give her credit. When she realized that Jim was seriously not himself, she came to see me at my office, and she helped me follow him after we found him in the dark, freezing, creepy loft. If I hadn't been scared already, finding him like that would have left me terrified. As it was, I only became more sure that my instincts were unfortunately correct. Things were going to get worse.

After losing the perp--losing Alex, I have to remind myself now--I was totally at loose ends, and Megan was good enough to insist that she'd throw a tanty of her own if I didn't come sleep on her sofa. All I can say is that it's a good thing I got some rest--not a lot, but a little. Then again, I may be getting whole lot more rest soon. I don't know.

Jim's accusations at the PD really sucked. As though I'd had any way of knowing that Alex's identity would be such an important thing. As though I thought the whole thing was anything more than a conundrum of Sentinel behavior that I wanted to see worked out in a controlled environment. "We're going to see her now," he informed me. Yes, I do respond to growls now, apparently.

At Alex's apartment, Jim was completely bizarre. Underneath, I could still feel him tensed, guarded, angry, but on top he was good old Jim. Calling me Chief, guiding me with a hand on my back. I swear to God, I wanted to shrug it off, but I didn't want to push him right then. I was starting to figure out what was going on.

The realization that I was caught in between two very large, very dangerous cats having a pissing contest, well, it just plain made my head hurt. I was slowly making some headway with Jim. He said he was trying to get by it, and he was interested in my theories, even looking for some of his own. Intellectually, I thought we had a chance of pulling out of this intact.

But in my gut I knew we were still in our handbasket going straight to hell.

When we got back to the station, every inch I'd made with Jim that day just slipped out on my grasp in about 20 seconds. He wanted me to move on. He wanted me to do my dissertation on somebody else. Did he think I was going to work with Alex now that we knew what she was? Did he think I was the amazing human Sentinel magnet? Did he think I was supposed to be perfect and never make a mistake?

With my heart in my throat, I went back to my office. I put my head down on my desk for a few minutes to compose myself, and somehow I fell asleep or at least drifted off slightly. I found myself in the jungle, bathed in blue light. I had four legs, grey fur, the shape of the wolf I'd seen when I did my spirit guide meditations.

I looked up and saw the Temple of the Sentinels, and it was so beautiful. I went to look more closely, and then I heard the growls. To my left was an incredible black jaguar. Jim, but he wasn't looking at me. He was staring down the golden spotted cat my right, who was pulling back in the way that cats and waves do before they strike. I must have made a sound, because the spotted cat turned her whole head toward me and launched. I actually felt her tear at my throat before the black jaguar attacked her, getting her away from me.

I felt myself bleeding, and at the same time I felt my shape elongating, my skin getting colder. I felt a huge cat tongue on my face, bristled and warm, I heard a great cat roar, and then I felt nothing. I woke up panting at my desk, as certain as I can be of what's going to happen, of what I've been waiting for since this whole thing began.

I figure I don't have long to wait. I thought about running, but she would only catch me. I know that now. I don't want to die, but if I have to die I'd rather it be here, in *my* Temple of the Sentinels. I'm going to meet it head-on. I'm trying not to be scared. I arranged one of my chairs to face the door, and I'm sitting here waiting for her to arrive.

The End 


End file.
